She licks red lipstick off her coffee cup. Then looks up.
He thinks she was giving a blowjob to her cup of caffeine. Please. Who pleases caffeine? Coffee is its own semen. A dream. A wonder machine. A love liquid that quilts a lilting lust through her gut. A steamy libation penetration.
She is wrestling her pink tongue into the cup’s lid that has an unflinchingly small opening. Her taste buds scratch at the plastic like a desperate cat.
She is at it again.
Her unconscious caffeine routine gathered an audience: He, who rather liked the obscene.
He wore jeans. And a dark roast cashmere sweater. His skin was breve.
“I’m Joe”
Maybe she could blow coffee.
